"In the end," he said, "it will not be arms that decide our destiny. It will be the same weapon that has destroyed oppressive governments and ambitious invaders time and again, since we built the first printing press. Or maybe carved a few symbols into the first tablet. Free ideas. Free ideals. Common decency.
"Time is on our side. The enemy with whom we contend, who would threaten, if it could, our survival, cannot with its warships overcome the power of a mind that thinks for itself."
The applause started slowly, and rippled swiftly across the cool grass, gathering momentum. One of the graduates stood, a tall proud young woman, whose dark eyes burned fiercely. I wasn’t close enough to see tears, but I knew they were there. One by one others joined her, until they were all on their feet.
Tarien again signaled for silence, and got it. "It is better," he said, "that we recall those we have lost, for they have given us our future. They have bought time for us. But there will surely come an hour when we can celebrate together, when we have completed our task, and rolled back our oppressor."
They stood for several moments. The assemblage had become a large animal, and you could hear it breathe. Tarien bowed. "For my brother, and for all who fight in your name, I thank you."
Connie, I wish you had been there. It was magnificent! I doubt there was a single person in the square who would not gladly have traded his present station for some fighting skills, and a good deck underfoot. What more could one ask of this life than to join the Dellacondans?
Well, I can see you snickering: how Candles goes on. Must be getting old. But God help me, we’re approaching the species9 most critical test. And when years from now we look back on all this, I’d like to know that I made a contribution—
I felt sorry for the Ambassador, lone awkward mannequin, withering in the face of such a storm.
Hendrik, uncertain, frightened, came to center stage. We were all restless, wondering what was coming next.
"Honored Guests," he said, speaking flatly. "Faculty Members, Graduates, Friends of the University: our next speaker is the Ashiyyurean Ambassador, M’Kan Keoltipess."
Far away, almost on the horizon, a skimmer was rising above the tree line. I imagined I could hear the whisper of its magnetics.
The Ambassador rose awkwardly. It was clearly uncomfortable, whether from the local gravity (which was somewhat heavier than on Toxicon, where it had served until recently) or from its perception of the situation, I do not know. Leisha rose and stood beside it. She looked simultaneously defiant and unruffled. She had apparently used the time to get hold of herself. And this you’ll like: she unnerved the crowd by offering the Ambassador her arm, and guiding it toward the podium.
It took its place, towering over Leisha. From within the robes came a sound like dried bones cracking. Leisha took a lightpad from her tunic. Obviously it contained the speech she was to read. But the Ambassador signaled her to put it away. I realized we were seeing the old human game of throwing away the prepared address. It fumbled with the folds of its hood, as a woman might with a skirt imagined to expose a bit too much. It raised both hands, shook the hood down to its shoulders, and stood uncovered, blinking in the bright sunlight.
It was very old. And its parchment features looked pained. The animal that Tarien Sim had created remained together, and it took a few psychological steps backward.
The Ambassador extended long desiccated fingers. They had too many joints, and the flesh was tight and gray. They danced in the sunlight, and there was much in their frenetic, graceful movements that left me chilled.
Leisha watched the fingers, and nodded. My impression was that she hesitated at translating its first "remarks," but obviously the Ashiyyurean insisted.
"The Ambassador thanks me," she said, "and wishes to say that he understands this is not easy for me. He also says: I understand your anger at this hour." The hands weaved their intricate patterns. "I wish to extend greetings to President Hendrik, to the honored Guests, to the Faculty, to the Graduates, and to their families. And especially—" it turned toward Tarien Sim, seated far to its right, "especially to the gallant representative of the Rebels, an opponent whom I would prefer to call friend."
It paused, and I thought I could read genuine regret in its face. "We wish you all good fortune. On an occasion such as this, when young ones go forward to test their knowledge, and to embrace their lives, we are particularly prone to realize that for them wisdom lies yet in the future. I can’t help observing that, when one considers the conditions under which we meet today, much the same may be true of our two species."
Leisha’s voice, which had begun with too high a timbre, and some trace of nervousness, had settled into its customary richness. She was, of course, no match for Tarien Sim, but she was damned good.
"To the graduates," the Ambassador continued, "I would point out that wisdom consists in recognizing what is truly important. And in treating with suspicion any cherished belief whose truth is so clear that one need not put it to the test. Among our people, we maintain that wisdom consists in recognizing the extent to which one is prone to error."
It paused, allowing Leisha a moment to catch her breath.
"I would have preferred not to speak about politics today. But I owe it to you and to my own people to respond to Ambassador Sim. He has said there is a major conflict, and he is sadly correct. But the struggle is not between Ashiyyur and human. It is between those who would find a way to settle our difficulties peacefully, and those who believe only in resorting to a military solution. It is essential during the dark days that surely lie before us that you be aware that you have friends among us, and enemies among your own.
"Our psychological reactions to each other are intense, but not so much so that they cannot be overcome. If we wish. If we insist! In any case, I implore you not to use them as a basis to form a moral judgment. If we commit that crime against each other, we shall bear a heavy burden before history.
"I can not agree more strongly with Ambassador Sim’s remarks. For all our differences, of culture and physiognomy and perception, we share the one gift that really matters: we are thinking creatures. And on this day, under this sun, I pray that we will find ourselves capable of using that gift. I pray that we will pause in our headlong rush, and think!"
The entry, I noted belatedly, was earmarked for another book which was to have developed the influences on Walford Candles’s early years. I was still thinking about it, wondering how events could have gone so wrong when everyone seemed to want to do the right thing. Weren’t perceptions worth anything at all?
I have no answers, other than a suspicion that there is something relentlessly seductive about conflict. And that, after all these millennia, we still don’t understand the nature of the beast.
Chase found more: a holo communication from Leisha, routed from Ilyanda, and dated thirty-two days after the earlier Millennium message. It was short: Watty, I’m forwarding separately a written statement by Kindrel Lee which has things to say about Matt. It’s a wild story, and I don’t know what to believe. We need to talk about it when I get home.
"I don’t understand this," I said. I stared at the date, and consulted a text. "This thing was sent from Ilyanda after the evacuation. And probably after the destruction of Point Edward. What the hell’s going on? Why would she have gone there?"
"I don’t know," said Chase, who was searching through the piles of documents that we’d assembled.